


From the Heart

by smoulderandbraids



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Anniversary, Cherry Blossoms, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, Hair Braiding, Spa Day, Spa Treatments, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoulderandbraids/pseuds/smoulderandbraids
Summary: Patricia whisks Delphine away for a long weekend spa trip. It isn’t quite what she expected.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	From the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by bleekay's beautiful art of Patricia and Daveigh!!! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089190 and https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098952)
> 
> Please read the tags and if this is not your thing, don't read.

The Elm Valley Hotel and Spa is objectively nice. The staff are nice, the decor is nice, the gardens are nice, and the prices suggest that it better be really nice. 

Delphine seems to think it’s nice, from the way she cuddles up to Patricia as they walk through the cherry blossoms and smiles surprisingly big in the photos Patricia obligingly takes for her instagram. 

It’s good for Patricia, watching Delphine smile through the manicures and the face masks and the soaking pools. She’s enjoying herself, sure, but this is Delphine’s early birthday-slash-anniversary present because the timing worked perfectly with the cherry blossoms and Patricia is pleased she’s clearly loving every minute of it. Patricia gets more satisfaction out of watching Delphine than the actual experience of the spa treatments. 

They’re on the terrace eating an assortment of indulgent-yet-healthful treats and fresh smoothies and fruit for lunch. It’s delicious and peaceful and lovely in the sunlight, but Patricia can’t stop her leg from bouncing under the table with extra energy. She thinks she’s doing a good job of ignoring it and listening to Delphine explain the difference between kaolin and bentonite clay masks, until Delphine puts her hand on her knee under the table, stilling the movement. 

“I’m glad this trip is having such a calming effect on you.” Delphine’s tone is dry, but the way her smile reaches her eyes softens the barb into something affectionate. 

“It is. I’m fine, everything’s great, I’m just kind of restless.” 

“Too much lounging for you?”

“I guess.” Patricia says. She traces the rim of her water glass to give herself something to focus on besides the hand on her knee. 

“We can fix that after lunch.” Delphine says, too casual, popping a strawberry into her mouth. 

Patricia thinks that clearly her beloved wife is plotting something. Maybe a quickie back in their hotel room, judging by how she lets her hand trail up Patricia’s thigh and does her best to look innocent. Three years in and she’s still terrible at it.

* * *

Despite Twyla’s occasional invitations, Patricia has never been to a yoga class. It seems slow and boring but possibly hard at the same time and her pre-baseball warm up stretches have served her well enough. 

The instructor is a compact and lean guy who introduces himself as Jackson in a way that’s somehow bubbly and laid-back at once. He goes through a land acknowledgment, explains the consent cards the studio uses for hands on adjustments (flip to the yes side if you‘re okay with them, flip no if you aren’t), and stresses that yoga is an individual practice even in a group setting and if anything hurts they should honour their bodies and back off or take a resting pose rather than pushing through. 

It’s a lot of information. Patricia has to actively focus to take it in, especially since Jackson is constantly moving around the room as he says it all, clearly a practiced opening spiel, adjusting the thermostat and passing out straps and blocks to people who didn’t grab them and adjusting the blinds. 

Delphine has her eyes closed, sitting cross legged on her mat a foot over from Pat. She doesn’t even look like she’s listening, like she’s off in her own world and her hands are for once still in her lap. 

They stay seated for longer than Patricia expected as Jackson takes them through breathing exercises and something called a square breath, which involves inhaling for a count of four and exhaling for the same. The geometry of it is soothing and Pat feels her shoulders start to drop and her jaw loosen. 

Jackson talks pretty much the whole time, taking them through a sort of body scan, encouraging them to feel the connection between breath and any areas of the body that might be holding tension. Pat doesn’t know how long it’s been when Jackson starts directing them to move to all fours. 

From there it’s all movement as Jackson takes them through a series of warrior somethings and forward folds and twists and yoga planks that have this weird hovering phase and are just different enough from normal planks to be confusing. It takes most of Patricia’s focus to follow along, deciphering what she needs to do from the many verbal cues Jackson gives and the demonstrations. There's long moments of rest sprinkled in between the sequences, usually just when Pat is feeling overly warm and noticing effort in her breath. 

Delphine clearly knows the poses. She has her eyes closed nearly every time Patricia can spare a second to glance over at her unobtrusively. She moves in rhythm with her breath and follows the flow of the class like it’s easy, like she’s been doing it since birth and doesn’t have to concentrate particularly hard. She looks beautiful as always and serene which is...less typical. 

Patricia doesn’t have a slot for serene in her mental catalogue of Delphine’s expressions. The closest she has is the way Delphine looks in their bed in the early morning when she’s attempting to sleep in. Or the way Delphine looks when she has managed to entice Patricia into an afternoon in bed and is thoroughly worn out with pleasure and tenderness and snuggles up to Patricia like she’s all Delphine wants in the world. 

It’s a good look on her. 

At one point Jackson has them turn sideways on their mats to lean in to something called a triangle, which makes decidedly less geometric sense than the square breath. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it would be fine if it didn’t mean Patricia is looking right at at Delphine’s back. She can’t help but admire the long line of Delphine’s side, perfectly parallel to the floor, the creamy skin above her waist just visible where her shirt has ridden up with the pose. Patricia knows how sensitive Delphine is there, is suddenly overcome by the desire to kiss that unassuming patch of skin and make Delphine shiver. 

Patricia feels herself start to wobble, has to look away before she legitimately embarrasses herself because Delphine’s back is too distracting. It doesn’t help when Jackson’s next instruction is to come up and reset their feet for a wide legged forward bend, still facing sideways. Patricia doesn’t look at Delphine’s ass, but she pictures what she must look like in the pose anyways and probably that’s even more distracting. 

It’s a relief when they move to seated poses. Pat follows Jackson’s directions to pretzel herself into something called cow’s head, even though she’s 90% sure her knees don’t need to ever stack on top of each other. She tries to think about keeping equal weight in her seat bones like Jackson says and not about the way Delphine sits up a little straighter next to her, about how snugly Delphine wrapped her legs around Pat’s waist last night when they were making out on the sofa and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

It’s good she’s watching Delphine really, like some kind of very unmindful perv, because Pat did not hear Jackson say to lie down at all, but everyone including Delphine is, so she follows along. It’s good to have something to do with her body, an activity to help ignore her growing awareness that Delphine is right there next to her, all flexible and warmed up and probably sweaty if Patricia herself is anything to go by, and god, that shouldn’t be hot but it absolutely is. 

Delphine doesn’t sweat, as a rule, always too cold in her sweaters and boots and those honest to goodness stockings she wears under dresses. If she does happen to work up a sweat, like under their duvet with her head buried between Patricia’s thighs, she usually wants to shower within the hour. She mentioned wanting to go to the sauna this afternoon though. Patricia hadn’t been interested at the time, but she thinks about Delphine all sweaty in nothing but a towel with her hair up showing off the line of her neck and swallows. 

Jackson dims the lights a little and Patricia reminds herself to listen because they’re doing more now than just breathing, lying on their backs, and rocking their knees side to side. Patricia sets her feet hip width apart as instructed and tries not to laugh when Jackson says to raise their hips to the sky while keeping their shoulders grounded, imagining a connection from navel to heart.

It actually does feel awesome on her spine and Patricia feels the openness through her chest and throat that Jackson’s encouraging them to embrace. He mentions specifically that they shouldn’t turn their heads side to side in this pose, which is fine because it’s not like Patricia needs a visual reminder of how deeply Delphine can arch her back with the proper motivation.

Jackson instructs them to lift their heels and slowly lower down from their bridges, one vertebrae at a time, before hugging their knees to their chests and coming to lie flat. It feels kind of transcendent. Patricia’s whole body is thrumming with energy. She’s aware of every muscle she has, but not in a painful way. She feels sensitive everywhere and the only thing she can really liken it to is how it feels in that split second before a really good kiss, when she knows Delphine is going to remind her of everything her body can feel in one massive wave of bone deep satisfaction. 

Her sense of peace is utterly ruined when Delphine lets out a sigh that’s pure sex to Patricia’s ears, breathy and deep and all-encompassing. 

Patricia feels herself flush all over, a hot rush of arousal. She closes her eyes and tries to think about something other than making Delphine make that sound again and again until she’s too breathless to do it. She lets her arms spread out at her sides, palms up like Jackson says and tries to focus on her own breath. 

Patricia nearly jumps when she feels a light touch to her palm, instantly recognizing the feel of Delphine’s talented fingers and the smooth gold of her rings, cool against Patricia’s skin. She curls her hand in acknowledgement, but a moment later the touch is gone and Patricia misses it fiercely. 

It’s sweet that Delphine wants to be close to her. It’s infuriating that Patricia can’t touch her properly, can’t ask for everything she wants in this intended to be zen moment. Patricia is so grateful this is their final resting pose and this incredibly pleasant torture will be over very soon. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Yoga was a terrible idea. Sure it was new and different and challenging enough for her brain and body that Patricia feels all worked over, emptied out and rebuilt without the restlessness she was spilling over with at lunch. She feels taller and kind of floaty, but her restlessness has been replaced by the kind of sexual frustration that takes her back to the early days of their relationship, of living with Ray and being desperate for the feel of Delphine’s skin on her own all the time. She doesn’t think this is what wellness gurus mean when they talk about feeling really, truly connected to you body on a different level, but maybe it is. That kind of explains how someone could be so passionate about green juice and crystals. 

“So that was a lot.” Patricia says, after Jackson has _namastay_ -ed and people are wiping down their mats and collecting their belongings. 

“Really?” Delphine says, taking an unfairly and uncharacteristically graceful pull from her water bottle. 

Patricia watches her tip her head back and firmly tells herself that Delphine will very likely let her kiss all the marks she wants into her neck. _Later._

“I thought it was pretty meditative. I’m barely even sweating.” 

Patricia can tell. Patricia is too warm in a way that has nothing to do with the exercise, but Delphine looks gorgeous and fresh and so happy it makes Patricia’s heart hurt. She’s practically glowing. Patricia wants to make her shine. 

After she fucks her until she can’t remember her own damn name. 

Nearly everyone is gone from the studio, and Patricia can’t resist the magnetic pull to reach out and cup Delphine’s cheek, drawing her into a kiss like that’s going to do anything to help the way she’s burning up inside. 

It’s a sip of water, but she wants the entire ocean. 

Delphine looks at her afterwards like she knows, smiling a little like she thinks it’s funny that Patricia is using all of her self-restraint to keep her hands off Delphine. 

“I still want to change before the aromatherapy session. We should go back to the room.” She catches Patricia’s hand and pulls her up to standing. 

“Sure,” Patricia says, and does her best to ignore how her heart is racing. 

* * *

  
  


The walk back to their hotel room is blessedly short. Delphine keeps hold of Patricia’s hand the entire time, laces their fingers together loosely and doesn’t comment on Patricia’s slightly sweaty palms. Delphine tells her how much she enjoyed the class, compliments the aesthetic of the studio and Jackson’s energy.

“What did you think?” Delphine asks Patricia, letting go of Patricia’s hand to unlock their door and step inside.

“I liked it fine.” Patricia says. She’s aware that Delphine won’t let her get away with such a short response, but she’s more concerned about the quickest path to the bed. 

“You look like you enjoyed it.” Delphine says, resting her hands on Patricia’s waist and stepping close. “You look basically post-coital.” Delphine says, slow and precise, reaching up and tucking a stray curl back behind Patricia’s ear. “You’re all flushed and your hair’s mussed to hell and back and I don’t know what even happened with your mascara. Reminds me of that time in your car, after Alexis’ birthday party when you let me—”

Patricia doesn’t let Delphine finish, kisses her soundly enough that it’s good they’re already in their room. She remembers exactly the window-fogging event Delphine is referring to and it does nothing to calm her down.

Delphine lets her, takes the affection and all the desperate energy Patricia pours into the kiss with her usual enthusiasm. She wraps Patricia up in her arms and gentles the kiss, makes it softer and sweeter. It’s good, but it also makes Patricia a little furious, doesn’t do enough to address how she’s burning up inside. 

“I can’t,” Patricia says, a little wild, digging her fingers into the soft skin of Delphine’s back, that sliver of space between the high waist of her black leggings and the hem of her half-sheer white cropped tee. “I can’t, I need—“

“You can.” Delphine says, slipping away to sit on the edge of the bed, body relaxed and her arms spread a little in invitation. “Sweetheart, you can.” 

Patricia is in her lap in a second, reveling in the fully body contact and the easy way Delphine wraps an arm around Patricia’s waist and tilts her head for another kiss, this one rich and deep. Patricia feels the energy of it settle deep in her bones, feels the smooth texture of Delphine’s rings against her cheek and remembers to breathe. Jackson would be proud. 

“You looked so good I couldn’t stand it.” Patricia says, and it sounds like flattery but it really isn’t and Patricia lets the raw earnestness pour into her voice to prove it. “I didn’t know you could move like that. I mean I knew you were flexible, but I didn’t _know_ and you looked so blissed out and I could hear you fucking _breathing_ just like you do when I touch you. And so I thought about touching you and fuck, I want you so much, want to make you feel like that all the time.”

Delphine kisses Patricia again, maddeningly quick. 

“I’m going to take such good care of you.” Delphine says, her voice unfairly even and ripe with promise. 

“I’m supposed to be saying that to you.” Patricia says, halfway between huffy and giggling because having Delphine all over her feels so good, like nothing she can even compare it to. Like cool water after a long hike, like hitting sixty home runs in a row, like filling a need she never even knew she had. 

She slides her hands up Delphine’s shirt and pulls it over her head, discarding the flowy material easily. Delphine isn’t as careful with activewear the way she is with the rest of her wardrobe, Patricia knows she won’t be distracted by it sitting on the floor for a few hours. She peels off her stretchy sports bra too, drops it in the general direction of her shirt, and pushes Delphine to lie down so she can get her mouth on her perfect tits. 

Delphine isn’t really curvy, not like Patricia is, but she’s classically proportioned, all long-legged and soft everywhere Patricia wants to put her mouth. She sighs when Patricia kisses down her neck to her breast, makes a small, pleased noise when Patricia cups her breast and kisses the flat of her breastbone before moving to place open mouthed kisses on the swell of her breast and her nipple. She sighs again, louder this time, and Patricia palms her other breast, pinches lightly to hear her do it again, almost exactly like she did in the class. 

Patricia takes her time, selfish and calculated because she knows how sensitive Delphine is here, how at least part of the reason she wears such thick sweaters is that it takes nothing for her unreasonably perky tits to announce themselves. Patricia’s stupidly fond of them, blames it on the hours she and Delphine spent making out in her car when they first started dating. Delphine would press into her touch and encourage Patricia to feel her up, learn the shape of her body, like Patricia didn’t already have more than enough fuel for her fantasies in lieu of actual privacy. 

She moves to kiss Delphine’s collarbone, both because she wants to and so that she can feel her shiver a little under her at the cool air of the room after the heat of Patricia’s mouth. 

“Okay, Delphine says, “Okay, give me a second.”

Patricia kisses her again instead, is caught completely off guard when Delphine flips them in one smooth motion. 

Patricia stares at Delphine where she’s straddling her, gloriously bare above the waist, her hair still settling from the sudden movement. Delphine smirks down at her, reaches for the waist of her leggings and peels them off. It shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. She’s just far enough that Patricia can’t reach her to help, which is probably best because it means Delphine is actually naked in a matter of seconds and leaning down to strip Patricia of her shirt and shorts with the kind of ruthless efficiency Patricia loves her for. 

“Oh my god, I can smell you from here.” Delphine says, delighted and holding Patricia still by her hips, reaching to press her fingers to Patricia’s pussy, smiling when she feels how slick she is, how her fingers slide effortlessly over to rest on Patricia’s inner thigh, gentle pressure encouraging Patricia to spread her legs more. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Delphine says, bending her head to drop a kiss to Patricia’s thigh. 

Patricia can’t help flexing a little against the touch, canting her hips up just enough to let Delphine know how bad she needs it, a wordless plea. 

“I’m hardly going to have to touch you.” Delphine continues, pulling back and making eye contact, her fingers on Patricia’s thigh stroking up and down slowly, impossible for Patricia not to squirm against, greedy for whatever touch Delphine will give her. Patricia can feel Delphine’s breath hot against her when she bends to kiss her again, just below the base of her hip bone, inches from her clit. 

“You’re going to come so quick. So wet you look like you already have.” 

Patricia makes a sound that she really can’t call anything other than a whimper. It turns into a much more respectable gasp when Delphine kisses just over her clit and licks down the centre of her and inside her, hot and wet and insistent enough to make Patricia’s legs shake a little. 

“You taste amazing,” Delphine says, her dark hair tickling Patricia’s inner thighs, a mean tease. She kisses Patricia again, pressing the flat of her tongue against her clit. It’s perfect and then it’s gone and Delphine is talking again, like she wants Patricia to have a heart attack from sexual frustration right here in this overpriced bed. 

“I’m going to keep you here all afternoon. Gonna make you come as many times as it takes until you finally fucking relax.”

“So do it.” Patricia says, desperate and a little mean, even though she knows Delphine will make her pay for it. She feels Delphine smile into her thigh, lets Delphine catch her hands and bring them to her dark hair, impossibly silky under Patricia’s fingers. Delphine presses a final kiss to her thigh, adding just enough teeth to make Patricia cry out.

Delphine doesn’t let up, switching between using her mouth and her fingers, licking circles over her clit so lightly it’s maddening, rubbing at her g-spot mercilessly, pressing fingerprints into her hip bones and fucking her with her tongue. She doesn’t let up until Patricia is on the heels of her third orgasm, each one coming quicker and more easily than the last until she’s a trembling, oversensitive mess and pulling Delphine away by her hair. 

Delphine kisses her way up Patricia’s belly, coming to lie on her side propped up on one elbow and looking far too pleased with herself. Or appropriately pleased with herself maybe. Patricia still hasn’t quite caught her breath, can feel her heart skittering like she’s stolen third base at a sprint and been called safe. 

“Need a break?” Delphine asks her, faux-solicitous, skimming a hand over Patricia’s side. 

“Do you?” Patricia says, letting her eyes drop to Delphine’s mouth. Her lips are shiny and wet.

Delphine wipes her mouth with the back of her hand carefully, makes a face when it doesn’t help because her fingers are sticky too.

Patricia laughs weakly and catches Delphine’s hand to kiss her palm.

Delphine kisses her, sweet and gentle and tasting unmistakably like pussy. Patricia likes it, delights in the filthiness of it all and how Delphine lets her navigate the kiss from something delicate to something more intentional. 

Delphine sighs into the kiss, pulls Patricia closer with a hand on her ass until Patricia can press a thigh between Delphine’s legs. 

“Yeah, more,” Delphine says grinding down deliciously on Patricia’s thigh. “Want you—“ 

Patricia kisses her again, pulls back again to admire how pink Delphine’s lips have gotten and to let her finish. 

“Want you inside me,” Delphine says, biting her own lip like she doesn’t know that drives Patricia to distraction. 

“Okay, I’m just going to—“ Patricia hitches Delphine’s leg high over her own hip, spreading her open so Patricia can kiss her neck and comply, her fingers slipping into Delphine effortlessly. 

“More,” Delphine says, and yelps a little when Patricia bites her, slides her fingers deeper, curling them and pressing her palm to Delphine’s skin so the heel of her hand is firm against Delphine’s clit. 

“You look so beautiful,” Patricia says, pulling back because she could kiss Delphine forever but she wants to see her face for this. “I’m never going to yoga with you again though. I can’t take a whole hour of watching you feeling yourself in a room with other people.” 

“What about private sessions?” Delphine asks, closing her eyes when Patricia crooks her fingers just right. 

“You could probably convince me.” Patricia says. Delphine’s spent a lot of time and energy over the past couple years convincing Patricia that pleasure is good for you, full stop. Patricia was sold on it within the first month they started having regular sex, but there’s no need for Delphine to know she isn’t still conducting research. 

She hitches Delphine’s leg a little higher, changing the angle just enough to give Delphine more friction where she needs it. Patricia knows she’s close from how she’s squirming and the needy sounds she can’t hold in. Patricia keeps her rhythm, settles in to watch. 

Delphine goes quiet when she comes, like she can’t get the breath to make sound, clenching impossibly tight on Patricia’s fingers again and again before going soft and liquid everywhere. She’s very still, save for the aftershocks Patricia feels in her whole body, pressed close to Delphine as she is, still inside her. 

Patricia brushes Delphine’s hair away from her face, takes her fingers back carefully and cuddles close to her, waits for Delphine’s eyes to open again. Patricia doesn’t know if it’s normal, if most girls come hard enough on the regular that it takes a while to recover, or if it’s just a Delphine thing. Patricia loves it regardless, is happy to press light kisses to Delphine’s shoulders and temple and wait. 

Patricia grabs a face wipe from the nightstand on her side of the bed and takes a second to clean her hands. She does Delphine’s too, even though Delphine thinks face wipes are a scourge upon the earth and _no substitute for a proper skincare routine, Patricia_ and will probably want to shower before leaving the room anyways. If they leave. There’s some fancy jetted tub in the bathroom and Patricia truly doesn’t know why they’d leave to sit in some pool or tub elsewhere with less privacy. She suspects Delphine has a few more orgasms in her today and she’s determined to coax them out. Even if it takes all night. 

Patricia gets up to throw out the wipe. When she turns around to go back to bed, Delphine is watching her, half sitting up against a pillow, beautiful eyes full of accusation. 

“So I close my eyes for two seconds and you abandon me?” 

Delphine is playing, the obvious grin on her face belying her words. Her hair is a disaster and her lips are still too pink and there’s a suspiciously mouth-shaped shadow blooming low on her throat. Patricia loves her so much. 

“I think it was a little longer than that.” Patricia says, climbing back into bed to curl up close to Delphine, accepting the kiss Delphine offers her. 

“I think you must be the only person to come out of yoga class more worked up.” Delphine says, twisting one of Patricia’s waves around her finger to help reshape it, a reflex. 

“You get me worked up. The class was fine.” 

Delphine mmms, pleased, and moves on to another presumably disastrous section of Patricia’s hair. Patricia turns so Delphine can reach better. 

“I think it worked out very well. I didn’t hear you complaining on that third orgasm.”

“Never.” Patricia says. 

Delphine is doing something else with her hair now that’s pulling Patricia's focus. Maybe some kind of french braid. That would be nice. 

In a little while Patricia will suggest they skip aromatherapy and make use of the tub they have here instead. It’s nice just lying here for now, thinking about Delphine soaking wet and covered in bubbles, enjoying the familiar feeling of Delphine’s deft hands sectioning her hair. 

She feels the bed dip as Delphine stretches to reach the nightstand for an elastic, feels her return and do something complicated to hide the end of the braid and secure it. She drops a kiss to Patricia’s shoulder, an announcement that she’s finished. 

“Thank you,” Patricia says, turning back around so they’re facing each other again. Delphine is smiling at her lazily, warm and open the way she only really is in private, when it’s just the two of them with nothing but time. 

“Happy anniversary.” Delphine says. 

“Happy anniversary.” Patricia says, and thinks about all their years yet to come. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from this yoga quote that I think about all the time. 
> 
> "I was going through some hardships a decade ago. I was fit and doing physical yoga five times per week, but I wasn't very calm and I didn't have much space in my life because I didn't have space in my mind. I felt like my career was stagnating, I was not in good relationships, I was stressed, and I wasn't inspired. Inspiration comes from your heart, not your brain, and meditation helped me find that inspiration again. My ranking on the tour improved, but it wasn't just that. I just started living better."
> 
> http://www.yogajournal.com/practice/2755


End file.
